Sandbox
by Agnes Stewart
Summary: "Every offer to play was just turned down, and while that made have deterred the average third grader, it did no such thing to Jack Merridew. If anything, it only made him try harder." Jack and Roger friendship and adorableness, with some Robert abuse.


Jack couldn't understand Roger.

Couldn't understand why he never wanted to join in with their games of tag or why he always stayed by himself, crushing sandcastles in the sandbox and glaring at anyone who got too close.

Every offer to play was just turned down, and while that made have deterred the average third grader, it did no such thing to Jack Merridew. If anything, it only made him try harder.

On Wednesday, Jack brought in a pack of peanut M&Ms. Before recess, he grabbed them from his cubby and strolled over to where Roger was sitting on a bench. "Hi, Roger," he greeted, plopping down beside the dark-haired boy. The boy mumbled a reply, scooting away from Jack as he did so. "Do you want to play with us? We're playing tag." Roger shook his head, and the redhead frowned, but continued on, saying, "You sure? I'll give you some M&Ms."

Roger glanced at the yellow package and responded, "I'm allergic to tree nuts… so no."

"But… peanuts don't grow on trees…"

Roger's reply was quiet. "Don't care."

Jack's face flushed red in his anger and humiliation at being rejected. "Fine," he muttered, standing up and storming back to the group of boys.

They were silent as Jack joined their group, his arms crossed angrily over his stomach. A voice piped up, belonging to Robert. "Can I have those M&Ms?"

"Take them, you idiot," he snarled, tossing them at Robert.

Jack spent the rest of recess sitting on a bench next to their sour-faced teacher.

Roger built miniature graveyards in the sandbox.

The next day, a Thursday, Jack got a bit more creative. The night before, he had taken the craft supplies and locked himself in his room, working furiously at a card. The final product was a red piece of paper, folded in half, with a crayon drawing of Roger on the front. On the inside, it read, "Please come play with us. You look lonely. I'll even let you punch Robert."

He sat the card on Roger's desk just as the teacher dismissed them for recess. The dark-haired boy took it, raising an eyebrow. Jack watched hopefully as Roger read the card. He simply placed the card back on his desk and left the room, leaving Jack standing there.

"Jack, come on," the teacher prodded, from her place by the door. The redhead crossed the room towards her and left the classroom, defeat lying heavily on his shoulders.

By Friday, Jack had nearly given up all hope. It had only been three days, but in his eight-year-old mind, it had seemed much longer. Roger still sat by the sandbox, refusing to play with them.

That day, he was holding a stick and poking it into the sand, watching with fascination on his face. Jack strode towards the boy, leaving the others amidst their game of tag, and sat down beside him. Roger didn't look up, and Jack took a breath, before blurting out, "Why won't you ever play with us?"

Roger shrugged, poking at the sand. "You never play any good games."

Jack was offended by that statement. "But we play tag! Tag's fun. We run races. We climb on the monkey bars!" Roger seemed unfazed by this outburst, so the redhead decided on asking, "What sort of games would you like to play?" He said 'would', because his mother told him it was polite, and for some reason, he really wanted Roger to join in their games.

Roger pointed into the sandbox, where Jack could see some bugs- they looked to be worms- wriggling about. Jack wrinkled his nose, not only at the fact that there were _bugs _in the _sandbox, _but because Roger stabbed the stick into one worm, twirling it around in the sand. Jack looked away as something red oozed out onto the sand and busied himself watching Roger's fascinated expression. There was almost a smile on the dark-haired boy's face.

"So this is what you like doing?" Jack questioned.

Roger buried the creature in the sand and answered, "I guess so." The redhead nodded and fell silent. "Gonna run off yet?" the dark-haired boy questioned, louder than Jack had ever heard him speak. He jumped a bit at the sudden noise.

"Um… no," he responded, confused. "I just want you to play with us."

Roger turned to face Jack, regarding him with dark eyes. He was silent for a moment, studying the redhead, who tensed slightly, unnerved by Roger's stare.

Then, the boy smiled faintly and said, "Fine, I'll play with you guys." Jack grinned as Roger added, "But do I still get to punch Robert?"


End file.
